Upon a warm Chronos morn, scores of hungry eyes fixed themselves rapt upon the distant horizon. All of Sapience watched on in readiness for another fight as the Daystar rose, presumably heralding the next splinterfall (as they have come to call it) from the heavens above. Like clockwork for the past several months since the corruption of the Serenade, each dawn had broken alongside the shimmering radiance of Deus illuminating the skies with hope for a future free from the Tsol'teth.

The endurance of those who had once worked in unison lay diminished in recent days, the departure of most of the West a hammerblow to an already shaky alliance. Yet faith continued to smoulder in the hearts of those that remained. Many of the Orders within the tense conglomerate had begun to witness progress as proof for their fastidious efforts, despite fierce opposition from the Nihilists.

On and on the world waited, breath bated.

The Daystar slowly took Her mantle atop highest noon, and the skies remained painfully mundane. Dusk came and fell, and with it, the spirits of the hopeful.

Three more days passed in much the same manner, the heavens unrelenting in their silence.

A fell quiet numbed the aspirations of the realm as they reeled under the weight of this newfound revelation, and what dire portent it proclaimed for the future of Sapience.

Deep below the Pash Valley, a toneless hum droned on and on amidst a crown of amaranthine fog, thrumming to the pulse of a ceaseless rhythm that drew ever closer...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Summary: Splinters of Deus have begun to fall much more sporadically. No one yet knows if there will be enough to build even one shrine, let alone restore all before the master plan of the Tsol'teth is enacted.

Penned by My hand on the 4th of Sarapin, in the year 725 AF.